


Retrograde

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-30
Updated: 2005-01-19
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian is searching for stability and memory.  (Amnesia!fic, contains hurt/comfort like a crazy thing.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian sat down slowly, like the stark white couch might back out from under him when he least expected it. 

He used his left heel to take his right shoe off, used his toes to pry off his left shoe, and kicked them both to the side. The floor was cold against the balls of his feet, in sharp contrast to the warm hand still resting on his shoulder.

“Are you still feeling all right?” asked Mikey. Brian nodded wordlessly, still not willing to look at Mikey’s face. The voice was bad enough – the tone was pitched too deep, the words too enunciated. It made splitting pains go through Brian’s head.

Justin sat down beside him and offered him a bottle of water, a couple of pills cupped loosely in his other hand. He was wordless too, which made Brian feel better. A little.

Brian took the pills, and Mikey’s hand squeezed tight on his arm, trying to be comforting. “Do you need me here?” asked Mikey, “Cause you know I’ll stay. If there’s anything –“

“No,” said Brian. “No, but thanks, Mikey. Thank you.” There was an ache inside his gut that wanted Mikey’s arms around him, wanted him to never let go, but his mind was busy telling him all the things that were so very wrong with this picture, and – screaming, oh god, he couldn’t _think_. 

Retrograde, could have been worse, a _lot_ worse, they said. Their words had tumbled around in Brian’s head until they sounded like a song. 

Brian was afraid to turn on the radio.

He was dimly aware that Mikey was talking to him, that Mikey was leaving, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him. Brian, for the first time in years, really wanted his mom. Or maybe Debbie. Was Debbie going to come over later? Brian couldn’t remember what they had said, and his chest seized for a moment.

“Hey,” said Justin, “Hey. You okay?” And then there were hands on Brian again, touching him, fingertips pressing against his cheeks and smoothing the hair back from his forehead. 

Brian blinked his eyes open and Justin was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, still looking like shit. He smoothed the hair from Brian’s face again, and then pulled his hands back, sitting them awkwardly in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said softly, not even knowing exactly why, but Justin’s eyes snapped up to his with a ferocity that took him by surprise.

“Don’t say that!” Justin snapped. “Don’t fucking apologize.”

Brian gaped at him, and Justin deflated.

“Shit,” Justin said tiredly. “Now _I_ have to apologize.”

“No, you don’t,” said Brian. “I don’t care. Really.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Justin said, and let out a sudden laugh. “Fuck, look at us,” he said. “We make quite a pair.”

Brian shivered, and Justin handed him a blanket that had been sitting folded next to him on the coffee table. 

“Thanks,” said Brian. “You can touch me, you know. I don’t mind.”

Something eased in Justin’s posture, but he just said “Of course you don’t mind. C’mon, you may not remember me at all, but I still have a great ass.”

“Yeah?” said Brian. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“You got it. I’ve got a great cock, too,” said Justin, and he didn’t let Brian respond before he shifted from the coffee table back to the couch, then hesitantly touched Brian’s arm.

“It’s stupid, sorry,” said Justin softly. Brian leaned back, his hunched shoulders popping slightly with the stretch. Justin kissed him on the temple and curled up against Brian’s side, placing one hand lightly on Brian’s thigh.

Brian sighed, scooted down a little and rested his head against Justin’s shoulder. “Better?” he asked.

There was a pause, then Justin said “Much. Much better. Thanks.”

“Tell me something,” Brian said.

Justin exhaled slowly, stirring Brian’s hair with his breath. “We already told you about Gus,” Justin said. “And your dad, and Vic. What else do you want to know?”

“Fuck. Anything. I don’t care.”

Justin chuckled. “You know, this _is_ going to be temporary. They said just rest and take your pills, and you’ll probably get a lot of memories back any day now. Any minute.” It would be more reassuring if he sounded like he believed a word of it.

Brian nudged Justin’s jaw. “Anything,” he said again.

Justin kissed the top of his head. “Tell me what you want to know,” he whispered.

“Start with who you are,” said Brian.

“Michael told you who I am, Brian,” said Justin.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Be nice to him until you’re better, ‘cause he loves you more than any of us except me, and also my mom’ll rip your balls off if you don’t.’ A glowing recommendation, but not exactly confidence-inspiring.”

Justin gave a pained laugh and shrugged it off. “Yeah. You know, you sound pretty much the same now. Right after you woke up, you didn’t. Sound the same, I mean.”

“I didn’t?” Brian swallowed again, and turned his face into Justin’s heat. “Maybe I’m already getting my memory back.”

“Yeah,” Justin breathed. “Okay. Umm, let’s see. I’m an art student. I’m almost twenty-three. I work on a comic book with Michael. I live here, with you. We’ve – We met about five years ago. And - I love you.”

“Okay,” said Brian.

Justin gave him a searching look. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” said Brian. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I _know,_ that’s why you asked me, so- why are you– fuck you.” Justin shoved him away and slid off the couch, stalking angrily over to the kitchen counter. “You should get some sleep, Brian.”

Brian crossed his arms and stared at his feet. Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hey? Umm, Justin?”

The clattering over by the counter halted abruptly. Pause. “Yeah?”

“Fuck. Can you come back, please?”

And Justin must be used to offering him immediate attention, because Brian was hardly done with his request before Justin was there. Justin gripped his elbow and pulled. “C’mon,” he said, “To bed with you.”

Brian winced and let himself be tugged up the steps to the glassed-off platform. Justin curled one arm around his back and urged him forward, bending in front of him for a second to pull the sheets back on the bed.

“You act like you’ve done this before,” Brian said, and Justin froze for a second, before snorting and helping Brian lay back on the mattress.

“Yeah, well,” said Justin. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” said Brian. “Wait. Yes.”

“Yeah?” said Justin. “What is it?”

Brian reached out for Justin’s hand and gave it a tug. “C’mere. Tell me more.”

“You’re exhausted,” said Justin. “I don’t think this is a good time. I can show you some pictures later, just rest.”

“I need to know,” said Brian.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Then c’mere and hold me?” Brian tried to keep the obviously-scared quaver from his voice, but was unsuccessful. Justin looked like he was about to break down at the sound.

“Okay,” said Justin, and instead of walking around to the other side of the bed, he just carefully climbed over Brian. He settled down with a thump at Brian’s back, and held him closely around the waist, one hand beginning to softly stroke Brian’s stomach through his T-shirt. Brian didn’t know who was getting more comfort out of this deal.

“My hands look different,” Brian said. “Do you know how weird that is? I don’t want to look in a mirror. Don’t want to know. God, Mikey looks so old, and his voice is different, and I just can’t _stand_ it.”

“Shh,” Justin murmured into the nape of his neck. 

Brian shifted uncomfortably and turned over, face-to-face with Justin, who blinked at him steadily. Brian touched the side of Justin’s face.

“I don’t remember you,” Brian said. “I don’t remember you, why do I want to keep touching you?”

“I don’t know,” said Justin. “Don’t stop.”


	2. Retrograde

Brian blinked awake, suddenly stiffening in surprise – strange room, strange shapes – but then he remembered what had happened, and tried to relax. His mind was free of the infernal buzzing. And he hadn’t even realized there _had_ been buzzing, so maybe the pills were doing some good.

“Hey,” Justin said softly behind him. “You all right?”

Brian turned over to look at him. Justin’s eyes reflected the moonlight outside, glittering with an odd intensity. 

“Did I wake you up?” Brian asked.

Justin shook his head, and the scratchy sound of his hair brushing the pillow was loud in the darkness. “No, I was awake,” he said. 

Brian waited for further explanation, but Justin had fallen silent. “What time is it?” Brian asked.

“It’s after midnight. Debbie came by after her shift was over, but you were already asleep.”

Brian sat up. “Deb was here?”

Justin reached out and placed a hand on Brian’s stomach, stroking softly. “Yeah. Don’t worry, she’ll be back later, she just wanted you to have some rest.”

Brian shook his head. “I – I wanted to see her. Why didn’t you wake me up?” His voice was getting louder, and Justin drew his hand away.

“Brian, you needed your rest –“

“ _Fuck_ rest!” Brian slid off the bed, stood on unsteady legs. “It doesn’t even matter, it doesn’t matter, I’m never going to remember anyway –“

Justin was suddenly next to him, how did he _do_ that, and he gripped Brian’s arms. “Listen to me. Brian.”

Brian looked at him, his hands drifting up to grip Justin’s arms in return. He let out a ragged breath, grateful for the anger in Justin’s eyes.

“You are going to get your memory back. Understand?” Justin squeezed harder. “And you are not going to say, ever again, that you won’t. Because it’s not true, and it fucking pisses me off. Do you understand?”

Brian looked away.

“Good,” said Justin, and released Brian, skimming his hands down Brian’s sides as he did. “Do you want me to call Debbie?”

Brian nodded, but he really felt like crawling back into bed. All of his exhaustion had come rushing back, and he felt even more tired at the thought that Justin was probably right. He did need rest.

Justin jerked his head toward the bed. “Go ahead and lie down for a bit, I’ll wake you up when Debbie gets here.”

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “Thanks.”

His eyes were still closed when he felt Justin kiss him, a gentle press of lips against his own. Brian blinked his eyes open quickly, but Justin was already drawing away. “Justin –“

“I’ll wake you up when Debbie gets here,” Justin repeated, and turned away before Brian could get a good look at his face. Justin grabbed the phone from the bedside charger and walked off toward the couch, leaving Brian staring after him.

 

*

 

It was Debbie who woke Brian up, with a gentle shake of the shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Deb,” Brian said hoarsely, and he tried to ignore the rasp of his voice, “I – I dunno. You’re here.” He’d wanted her here so badly that it was almost a surprise.

“Yeah, sweetie, of course I’m here.” She poked him in the side, and Brian scooted over to make room for her on the edge of the bed. Debbie sat down, and put her hand to Brian’s forehead.

Brian tried to smile. “It’s not a fever, Deb.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m just seeing if I can feel where things got muddled in there.” Debbie smiled back at him, and didn’t say anything when Brian wordlessly clutched onto her other hand. She squeezed back, and smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “Shh, baby. You’re doing okay.”

Brian inhaled and it came as a gasp. He didn’t know why he’d thought Debbie could fix things. And no matter how long it had been, it didn’t seem like any time. Debbie looked almost the same. A little bit heavier, a little bit less make-up. 

“Deb –“ He should ask how she is, what’s up, thank her for coming - “What am I missing?” he said instead. “What if I don’t get it back?” Another breath, and Brian tore out the words, “Do I _want_ to get it back? God, Deb, tell me.”

Debbie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Brian Kinney... What have you been thinking in that thick head of yours?”

“Apparently not so thick,” Brian said.

“Maybe not,” said Debbie. “Listen, I won’t lie to you. There’s been some bad stuff in those missing years. Things, terrible things, have happened to you and to people you love, but no matter what, all the rest is worth it. You hear me?”

Debbie was really not helping, but Brian nodded. Things had always seemed easier set in Debbie-terms. That was _something_ that Brian remembered. “I hear you.”

“Good.” She stroked his forehead again. God, she was really in full-on mothering-mode. She got like this. He remembered her getting like this.

Brian realized he kept referring back to his previous memories of her to match up to the real thing. Maybe he was trying to assure himself he wasn’t completely nuts.

“Are you being good to Sunshine?” she asked.

Brian’s brow furrowed, a slight echo in the back of his skull. Sunshine. “Who?”

“Justin. Are you giving him shit?”

“No,” said Brian. He paused. “At least, I don’t know. I’m trying not to, but – there’s so much stuff I don’t _know_.” He laughed low and harshly. “It’s driving me a little crazy, which I’m sure doesn’t help.”

“I know.” Debbie cocked her head. “Let’s give that skull of yours a trial run, shall we? What do you remember?”

Brian shook his head and buried his face into his pillow. “I don’t know. I don’t _know_ , Deb. I just told you!”

Debbie sighed in exasperation. “Well, obviously you know who _I_ am.”

“Yeah, well you’re kinda hard to forget.”

“Shut up, you little asshole.” Her soothing touch contradicted her words, but not her tone. “Do you remember going to college?”

Brian closed his eyes. “No. Maybe.”

“How about Lindsay?”

The name seemed familiar. It was right there... right there.

“Blond girl? She’s a dyke, doesn’t know it. That Lindsay? Is she the one that – she’s my son’s mother, right?”

“Yeah, hon, you got it. She knows she’s a lesbian, though.” Debbie ruffled Brian’s hair. “You remember me and Michael, what about high school?”

Brian nodded, closing his eyes again. Debbie looked much the same as he remembered, but there were lines around her mouth that kept distracting him when she spoke. “I remember high school,” he said. “But shouldn’t I remember more? I just – I don’t think it’s supposed to take this long. I think I’m supposed to be remembering things more quickly. Justin looks worried.”

Debbie was silent for a moment. Then she put her hand on Brian’s forehead again, and said “Of course he looks worried, sweetie. He’s fucking terrified, just like you. But that doesn’t mean anything bad is going to happen – It just means that he loves you, very very much.” 

“How did that happen?” Brian asked. “I can’t – and he’s younger than me, right? Because he’s around the age I remember being, and I’ve lost a few years. I’m so -” confused. Scared. Fuck. He had so many questions, and it felt like he was running out of time.

“He’s twelve years younger,” Debbie said. “And I don’t know how it happened, Brian. I wish I could tell you. All I know is that fucking kid saw _something_ in you, and he didn’t let go of it, no matter what. He kept following you around, and you kept taking him home, and the next thing we all knew – Brian Kinney had fallen hard.”

Brian didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine himself being in love – fuck, like he’d ever get messed up in that kind of business – 

But there was something about Justin, and the way Brian had to have him around. It was something more than not wanting to be alone. He didn’t understand it. Maybe Justin did.

“I need to go, sweetie,” said Debbie. “I have the morning shift tomorrow, and I can’t be dead on my feet when dealing with all those hungry queens. I’ll bring by some food for you and Sunshine tomorrow night, how about that? Lasagna?”

“Lasagna?” said Brian. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

Debbie grinned at him, let out a sharp cackle, then stood up. “You’re gonna be fine, kiddo,” she said.

“Deb,” Brian said, remembering what Michael had told him. “I’m sorry about Vic.”

She sobered. “I know you are. But he was pretty fucking lucky to get those extra few years, as some people might say.”

Debbie gently cupped Brian’s cheek, nodded at him, then turned to leave, zipping up her bright red coat as she went. Once she was out of sight, Brian could hear her exchanging some quiet words with Justin.

Carefully, he sat up and leaned just enough to see the door. Justin was standing there with Debbie, and as Brian watched, Debbie opened her arms to him. Justin sagged into her and held on tight, shoulders shaking, and Brian still couldn’t see his face. 

Brian felt sick at the sight, Justin’s pain obvious to anyone who looked. And that was because of Brian? A memory whispered at the corner of his mind, but as soon as Brian tried to focus on it, it was gone.

Debbie whispered something to Justin, rubbing his back soothingly, and Justin nodded against her neck. She said something else, and he made a noise that might’ve been a laugh.

Then with a last comforting squeeze, she drew away from him, and stepped out the door and out of sight. Justin slid the door shut behind her.

Justin hesitated, and his hands slid off the door latch as he turned. He looked up, and his gaze met Brian’s.


	3. Retrograde

Brian turned away from Justin’s eyes and carefully made his way over to the bathroom. Justin didn’t make any move to follow.

Brian slid the door half-way shut behind him – why did all the doors slide? – and went over to the toilet. It was a fucking huge bathroom. What did he ever do with a bathroom that large?

He closed his eyes for a second. More questions.

Brian relieved his bladder, and as he tucked himself away, he glanced over at the shower enclosure.

And got a sudden, vivid flash of fucking Justin against the glass – warm water pouring down on them, slicking Brian’s hair to his forehead, Justin’s fingers sliding and twisting against his own. _Fuck_ \- was that a memory or a fantasy? 

“You okay?” said Justin. 

Brian jumped, startled by Justin’s appearance in the doorway. “I – I - yeah,” he said. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

Justin nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay.”

Brian paused. He hesitantly returned the smile. Something in Justin’s face softened, and began to look more real.

Brian forced himself to stop staring at Justin, and began to wash his hands. Flicking some of the water off of them, he reached for a hand towel, and glanced up.

There was a mirror. 

Of course. Mirrors in the bathroom.

Brian recognized himself easily, but there were so many differences that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. 

Brian’s eyebrows were thicker and darker than he remembered, his eyes set a little more firmly in his skull. The line of his throat had lost its graceful definition. His hair was limp and hung in his eyes. His lips were pressed together so hard they were white. 

There was a huge bruise above one temple, the mottled blue and green spanning from Brian’s hairline to the corner of his eye. 

Justin came up behind him, placing his hands on Brian’s shoulders and meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Is it different?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” Brian said, his voice shaky. “I look old.”

Justin nodded. “Not so bad for an old fart, though.”

Brian laughed, a little more hysterical than amused. Justin rubbed Brian’s shoulders reassuringly, obviously unsure of what else he could say.

Falling silent, Brian lifted his T-shirt to look further. He had muscle, but his waist looked thicker than before, solid where it used to taper into his hips. Brian was bruised here, too, across his chest and torso.

“Seatbelt,” said Justin. 

“Yeah, I figured,” said Brian. Justin’s arms dropped from Brian’s shoulders, and Justin traced the bruising gently with his fingers. 

“Does this hurt?”

Brian shook his head, and leaned back into Justin. Justin stopped touching the bruises and hugged him around the waist, his body pressing chastely against Brian’s back.

Brian closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths. Then he opened them, and turned around in Justin’s arms, his hands settling awkwardly on Justin’s hips. Justin cocked his head at Brian.

“How does my mouth feel?” Brian asked, and kissed Justin. Brian didn’t know why he did it, he just knew that he had to.

The kiss deepened for a moment, their mouths clinging together almost desperately, but Justin made a noise and stepped back. Stared at Brian, almost distant.

“It feels the same,” Justin said quietly. “The same.”

Brian traced the corner of Justin’s lips with a finger, and Justin didn’t move away, just looked at Brian with something broken in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” said Brian. “I know you’re hurting. I shouldn’t have -”

“It doesn’t matter,” Justin interrupted. “And you’re hurting too, I know that. You’ve just lost so much of yourself, it must be killing you. But you’ll remember, I swear you will.”

Brian shook his head in response, not wanting to think about it. “Did we ever fuck – did we ever have sex in the shower?” he asked.

Justin nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Hundreds of times. Well. Dozens. Why?”

Brian sighed, and dropped his hand from Justin’s face. “Nothing, just wondering.”

“Okay,” said Justin, but his eyes were open again and he looked at Brian strangely.

“I’m tired,” said Brian. “But I don’t want to sleep anymore. I’m sick of sleeping.”

Justin reached out slowly, and touched Brian’s jaw with the back of his hand. Brian leaned into the caress, echo, echo, _memory_.

_What are you still doing here? Don’t believe in – believe in -_

_Brian is running, his feet skidding slightly on bland linoleum. He knows he's headed somewhere important. White walls and open doors whiz by his head too quickly, make him dizzy. He slows down only a second, swerving around someone in the hallway, glances back – Mikey’s still behind him. So is –_

_There’s an amused quirk to Justin’s mouth, (Justin, yes, there he is – justinjustinjustin), and the wood floor is solid and cool beneath Brian’s bare feet. Brian turns away, nonchalant shrug to his shoulders. Such a smug little bastard._

_“You love me. I know you do.”_

_What are you doing? Still here? The feel of ragged, wispy blond beneath his fingertips, hard muscle between his thighs. The memory skitters away, replaced by something else._

_Small. A fleeting glimpse of bright eyes, eyes too much like his own. A little kid’s laugh. Brian -_

“Shit!” Justin yelped, and steadied Brian as he staggered. Brian gasped, clutching at his head. He felt like someone had just plunged a knife through the top of his skull. Justin’s hands stroked back through Brian’s hair, gently, soothing the pain. “C’mon, come sit down,” said Justin.

_You._

_You should be the one dying._ It was his father’s voice. 

Brian shuddered, and Justin held his hand, palm closed, in front of Brian’s mouth. Brian blinked, looked around. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t remember walking over to it, didn’t remember Justin ever leaving his side, either.

“Shh,” Justin said. “Tilt your head back. You need your pills. There you go.”

Brian let Justin guide him, and tilted his head back. Justin poked the pills into Brian’s mouth and offered him a bottle of water, fingers still stroking carefully at the nape of Brian’s neck. Brian lifted the bottle of water, hands trembling, and gulped down the pills in all their brightly-colored forms.

“That was a pretty sudden headache, wasn’t it?” Justin whispered. “Scared the shit out of me.” Justin’s voice was steadier, though, and his hands were firm and comforting. Seemed like Justin was good in a crisis, or at least he was good at keeping Brian from freaking out completely. 

“I think I remembered some – some stuff,” Brian said. His voice was hoarse. “Just random crap. I don’t know. Shit, I don’t know.”

Justin’s arms tightened on his shoulders for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “That’s good. You wanna lie down for a while, or do you still want to look at pictures?”

“The pictures,” said Brian. He didn’t want to close his eyes again. He wanted to _know._

“Sure. Umm,” Justin pushed slightly on Brian’s shoulder. “Go ahead and lean back. I’ll bring some over.”

Brian made himself as comfortable as possible, feeling the bruises on his stomach pull and stretch. He watched Justin get a stack of photographs out of the bedside table. There were only a few, a pile about the size of a developed roll of film, but the pictures were all different sizes. They’d obviously been taken with several different cameras.

Justin sat down next to him on the bed. “Here,” he said, and handed the first picture to Brian. “This is you and Michael.”

Brian looked at it, and took a deep breath. “I remember this picture,” he said quietly. “I remember when it was taken. Deb had just had this cook-out...”

“How old were you?”

“God, I don’t know. Seventeen? Eighteen?” Brian gazed at the picture intently. He had his arm slung around Michael in the picture. They were both grinning like a couple of idiots.

Brian glanced up when Justin’s hand covered his. Justin looked at him. “Brian,” he said softly. “This is good. This is really good.”

Brian blinked. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t remember this picture yesterday,” Justin said.

Brian looked back at the picture. He still remembered that cook-out. Damn near vividly. He’d eaten about three cheeseburgers, and then Mikey had dared him to eat one completely covered in horseradish. He’d almost gotten sick. Hadn’t been able to stand horseradish since. “I looked at this picture yesterday?”

“Yeah,” said Justin. “Yeah, you did. I showed it to you. You don’t...?”

“No,” said Brian, and he tilted the picture to catch the light. He didn’t want to look up, in case he was wrong, but he was pretty sure Justin was smiling at him again.

“What else do you have for me?” Brian asked, and set the picture of him and Michael aside.


	4. Retrograde

Brian flipped through the photographs, recognizing Michael and Debbie easily. He could recognize Lindsay as well, most of the time, but there were other people in the pictures that were still nameless to him.

Justin sat next to him, watching for any positive reactions. Brian felt slightly itchy at Justin being so close while he was trying to dredge up memories, but he didn’t ask Justin to move. It was still better to have him there.

Brian cleared his throat, offering the pile of pictures back, and Justin took them from him. “There’s a couple more,” Justin said, and handed him the next one.

Brian looked.

In this picture, Justin was sitting next to Brian on a couch. Brian would ordinarily have had no idea where the picture was taken, but luckily Debbie hadn’t changed the pattern of her wallpaper in ten years, and he placed the location immediately. 

Brian and Justin, in Debbie’s living room. Check.

Picture-Justin was intently watching the interaction between Brian and a dark-haired woman. He was leaning into Brian’s side, one foot crossed over Brian’s leg at the ankle, one hand gently resting on Brian’s upper thigh.

Brian’s hand tightened on the corner of the picture, smudging the smooth layer of the image. He might be wrong, with those missing years, but Brian doubted he would let just anyone touch him so easily. Not like that. Justin’s hand on his thigh showed more intimacy than a twenty-minute rimming session and three blowjobs. 

He thought about how close Justin was sitting to him now, about how much they’d been touching since Brian got out of the hospital. Brushing shoulders together, supportive hands at waists, arms around arms around chests. The gentle pressure of Justin’s fingers through Brian’s hair, and the feel of Justin’s cheek against his own.

There was something going on, all right. And Brian must be remembering something – he must be feeling _something_ \- or why would he go along with the strange intimacy? And why did it feel so fucking _good_ to have Justin there beside him?

Brian gave the photograph back to Justin. “No,” he said. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” said Justin. There was a tense line around his mouth, and Brian cursed himself for not saying anything else – but there was nothing to say. Just more and more questions piling up in his mind. 

Justin handed Brian the last picture, and this one was a little different than the others. Instead of being a candid snapshot, it was posed against a fake forest background, like the cheap portrait packages you could get of your kids at a Super Q.

A little boy, brown hair, big brown eyes. “That’s Gus,” said Justin.

“He’s –“ Brian stopped, something unnamable thrumming through his chest. “He’s really mine, isn’t he.”

“Yeah,” said Justin. “Gus is – he’s great. He loves his Dada.”

“Well, shit,” Brian said. 

He tried for a minute to see what parts of himself were in Gus, the hair and chin, maybe, but Brian didn’t know that he’d ever looked that happy when he was a kid. “Shit,” Brian said again. “Who would’ve thought...”

He set the picture gently on the nightstand, leaned it against the alarm clock. Gus’s face grinned up at him, the faint glow of red numbers coming through his cheek.

Justin shuffled the rest of the photographs back together, and set them aside. “Hey,” he said. “Did that help? Your memory is definitely improving some.”

He glanced at Brian, and Brian realized that he hadn’t responded, too occupied with looking at his son. “Yeah,” Brian said. “I think so.”

Justin nodded. “Good.” He glanced down, looking at Brian’s bare feet. He idly traced Brian’s big toe with one finger.

“Justin,” said Brian. He paused before he asked his question, his throat going thick with apprehension. He shouldn’t do this.

“It’s fine,” said Justin, and smiled at him sadly. “I didn’t really expect you to recognize –“

“No,” said Brian. “That’s not what I was going to say. Come here?”

He _really_ shouldn’t do this.

Justin looked confused, but moved closer, scooting up on the bed until his legs lined up with Brian’s. Taking a breath, Brian leaned forward, bringing their mouths together, curling an arm around Justin’s back to keep him close.

Justin’s mouth opened under his, slick and comforting. Brian squeezed his eyes shut, it felt so bizarre, so _right_ , and his grip on Justin tightened. Justin made a startled noise about thirty seconds too late, and he broke away, leaving Brian shivering from the cool air against his lips. Brian opened his eyes, meeting Justin’s stare.

“ _Brian_ ,” said Justin, and he sounded strange, and lonely, and Brian knew that Justin wouldn’t move away again.

 

*

 

Justin breathed roughly around Brian’s lips, and pushed Brian backward onto the bed, climbed on top of him, limbs splayed to match.

Brian’s hands traced Justin’s skin, digging in, brushing and smoothing out in all the right places. Justin arched into him with desperate whispers, muttering things that Brian couldn’t quite make out, couldn’t quite hear. 

Brian tried to find memories of previous times like this, but he couldn’t think of anything. The blank spots in his mind gave off a bright glare, painful and sad. Not like something was broken, just – something gone. He leaned his forehead into the angle between Justin’s neck and shoulder.

Justin, breathing heavily, drew away just long enough to skim out of his clothes. Once he’d finished with that, he smoothed his hands under the waist of Brian’s pants. “This okay?” he said.

Brian nodded. Justin pulled his pants off, and Brian looked down. Still as well-hung as ever. He’d half expected part of his dick to be chopped off.

Justin left the T-shirt on Brian, but pushed it up to caress Brian’s stomach and chest, careful of the bruises. He lowered his mouth to Brian’s hip-bone, biting lightly, and Brian let out a heavy breath. 

 

*

 

Justin pressed his face against Brian’s spine, inhaling the sweaty smell of him. The same, Brian seemed exactly the same, and shouldn’t it all feel different?

He felt Brian move slightly, the familiar motion of stripping off the condom and tossing it aside. Brian took a shaky breath, and Justin could feel Brian’s heart beat quickly through his skin. Justin kissed him there, rhythm against his lips, on the smooth, sticky surface of Brian’s back, and wished that he hadn’t just fucked everything up.

He smoothed a hand over Brian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Justin said quietly. “I think this - this might have been incredibly selfish of me.”

Brian didn’t say anything, and Justin rose up on his elbows so he could see the side of Brian’s face. His eyes were shut, but he wasn’t asleep. 

“Hey,” said Justin gently. “You okay?”

Brian rolled on his back, looked up at Justin. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but Justin wasn’t so sure. 

Brian was so vulnerable right now, so terrifyingly _absent_ that Justin had been walking on eggshells for the past four days. Trying not to freak Brian out or upset him, and trying to answer all his questions, even when Brian had just woken up and wasn’t able to remember the answers from one time to the next. 

And that had been harder than anything, not knowing if Brian’s mind was going to improve. Brian had kept shouting and crying and talking about things that weren’t there. Without Michael beside him every second, Justin probably would have gone crazy too.

Justin remembered the moment, after Brian had fallen asleep again, that he’d gone out into the hallway and just stood there, motionless, until Michael came to check on him. Too fucking terrified to move. 

And Justin remembered the breathless moment a couple hours later, when Brian had woken, looked up, and finally _known_ Michael. 

Brian blinked at him, and Justin glanced away from Brian’s eyes, not wanting to stare too long. Having sex with Brian, at this point, had to be one of the most idiotic things Justin had ever done. 

“Shit. I’m –“ Justin started to say again. 

“Stop,” said Brian. He closed his eyes again. “Stop, okay? I wanted this. I wanted _you_. I thought I would...“

“Would what?”

“Remember.”

Fuck. Justin sighed. Brian had thought that by fucking Justin, he’d somehow get his memories of Justin back. 

Justin wasn’t sure if that was a better or worse reason than getting your emotionally and mentally fraught partner to fuck you simply because you missed the feel of him inside you.

Justin thought his own reason was probably worse. 

“It didn’t work, then,” he said.

“No,” said Brian. He looked pale, blank.

Justin bit back more apologies, and leaned over to touch Brian’s shoulder. Brian flinched away.

Justin grit his teeth together, his face starting to flush in shame. “I freaked you out.”

“It was intense,” said Brian. “That’s all.”

“It wasn’t _intense_ , it was how it always is with us.” Justin drew his hand back, suddenly aware that he’d still been reaching out for Brian, not caring that he was touching nothing but air. “Did it seem intense to you?”

Brian rolled back on his side, tucking his knees toward his chest. “I can’t talk about it,” he said. “My headache’s back.”

“I’ll get you some pain killers,” said Justin.

“Don’t.”

Justin stopped. “Why?”

Brian turned his face into the pillow, hiding his face. “I don’t love you,” he said.

Justin froze, the hair itching at the back of his neck, and wondered, quite casually, how long it had been since Brian last said that to him, and why he was saying it now.

“ _What?_ ”

“I don’t love you!” Brian nearly shouted, his voice muffled by fabric. “How can I? I don’t even know you! What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Brian –“

“I don’t want your help,” Brian said forcefully. “And I don’t want you touching me and thinking that I – that I _feel_ anything for you.”

Justin wavered on his feet for a second, and grabbed his pair of pants from the floor. He couldn’t find his shirt, so he carefully opened a dresser drawer and grabbed a T-shirt, put that over his head. Looked around for his shoes.

He looked over at Brian, who still had his head buried in the pillow. 

Justin couldn’t – couldn’t _take_ it. Not now.

“I’m going,” he said to Brian. “I’m going, okay? I’m going.”

He saw that Brian had turned over, was finally looking at him, but all Justin could see was the nasty bruise on his forehead. 

And the small scabbed-over nicks on Brian’s chin from glass, from the fucking crushed windshield of –

Justin jammed his feet into his shoes, no socks, no tying the laces. If Brian never remembered, never knew him, never _loved_ him again – Justin couldn’t think about it.

Couldn’t think about it more than he had for the past four fucking days, anyway.

“Where are you going?” said Brian. He didn’t sound angry or scared, just curious. He’d be fine.

“I don’t know, I’ll get breakfast or something - I just –“ Justin shook his head, couldn’t go on. Salt and thick sweetness started to clog the back of his throat, and Justin knew that he was about ten seconds from crying like a little brat. “I can’t be here,” Justin said. 

Justin felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his lungs wouldn’t fill all the way. He didn’t look back at Brian. 

He went to grab his keys off the counter and found that they were already in his hand. Justin made his way through the door, down the steps, and out onto the street, his momentum carrying him at a near run.

The sky was dim with morning light, and Justin inhaled deeply, his lungs expanding with air and a horrible sense of relief.


End file.
